I literally love my husband so much that it makes me cry.
When I stop to think about it, really, really think about it… well, it’s over. Waterworks.
I’ve told him before that this happens to me and asked if he did the same. He said it doesn’t, that we’re different people so we’re going to experience love in separate ways. I used to think it meant he didn’t love me as much as I love him (whatever that means), but I’m trying to do better, be kinder to myself.
It happened Thursday night driving home from work. A specific sequence of songs on the radio, nothing to do but think, surfing my car through the familiar waves of traffic, on autopilot. And the tears came.
I sat in parked in the garage for a few minutes, scared to come inside.
When I finally worked up the courage to go into the house, I was embarrassed. I greeted him, and even my driving shades couldn’t hide what I’d been up to. I heard it in my own voice, after all. He asked me what was wrong.
“There was just… music on the radio,” I said. I told him I’d been moved with love for him.
He smiled, seemed amused, told me it was adorable.
It’s a terrifying state to be in, but at least his reaction was positive.